An Empire Divided
by Quirky Circuit
Summary: Deep in the Outer Rim Territories, a missing Runner has activated its distress beacon. The Corellian cruiser Nerf Herder, helmed by a reckless Admiral, dropped all communication with Republic Fleet Commander Ackbar and has decided to pursue the signal in direct violation of their mandate. Post-ROTJ
1. Chapter 1

**A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...**

A moment of repose has fallen across the restored Republic. **Supreme Chancellor Mon Mothma** has brought peace to the galaxy with the cooperation of the ambitious **Moff Fel**, who successfully withdrew the Imperial remnant from the Core Worlds to the detriment of the **Moff Council**. Democracy thrives as lives find balance in the shifting chaos.

**Vice Chair Leia** has instigated an expedition through the galaxy to spread the Republic's goodwill and fortune with worlds devastated by the galactic civil war. Unfortunately, these peaceful excursions have been hampered as several Republic Runner vessels have disappeared in the last three weeks.

Now, deep in the Outer Rim Territories, one of the missing Runners activated its distress beacon. The Corellian cruiser **Nerf Herder**, helmed by a reckless Admiral, dropped all communication with Republic Fleet Commander** Ackbar** and has decided to pursue the signal in direct violation of their mandate...

ONE

Space was placid above the frozen, barren planet of Belsavis. Clouds swirled in the atmosphere as the sun peaked, ever so slightly shimmering across the planet's crest. The fierce snow storms that raged across Belsavis was only one of the planet's many renown feats, tales whispered through cantinas suggested that Belsavis' hazardous wasteland was just a shell for its ulterior existence.

Perhaps those secrets were what led a Republic exploratory vessel to the edges of the Outer Rim, deep within the ninth quadrant of the Bozhnee sector. Such a ship and its crew had been given but one mandate; to spread the restored Republic's goodwill across the galaxy, and hopefully instill faith among the systems left devastated and disheveled during the Civil War.

Whatever reason brought that exploratory ship out here did not matter to the massive Corellian cruiser that egressed from hyperspace in an echoed, thunderous clap. Emblazoned with the crest of the restored Republic, the cruiser lovingly christened Nerf Herder was friendly to its exploratory comrade. That was the whole reason Nerf Herder had gone off course and ventured so far beyond its intended trajectory; the exploratory ship had dropped a beacon. And the Admiral of the Nerf Herder had no intention of abandoning his allies.

"This is Nerf Herder hailing Republic Runner Inquiry, do you copy?" the Admiral asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

From his perched chair, the Admiral could rotate and directly communicate with every officer on his bridge, just the way he liked it. The large, cylindrical bridge's entire roof was an open view to the stars, he could easily set his sights and scrutinize every detail personally, if he so wished. Even with all that freedom and authority, he was still unsettled by the blank static that hummed on the frequency.

The Admiral rubbed his rough palm across his face and squished his cheeks up towards his eyes, sighing heavily as his hand fell away. The bridge fell silent, one could hear the drop of a pin onto the plated floors, the crew surveyed their Admiral.

Uhura, a young woman sitting at the communications computer swiveled in her chair. Her green eyes revealing the anxiousness that she buried, everyone here knew the stories, that's why they watched the Admiral so closely. He was the only one who could return to Coruscant without being tagged as insubordinate or unruly, the Republic had accepted his recklessness, but this was more than that. A fear greater than being court-martialed; several Republic ships had vanished during Outer Rim explorations in the last few months, perhaps Inquiry was another victim.

But the Admiral argued; Inquiry was the first ship to drop a distress beacon. It had to mean something! So he ordered all communications with Fleet Commander Ackbar dropped, and disembarked toward the signal. Yet when they jumped out of lightspeed, nary a blanket of debris welcomed them. Silence, an eerie quiet. Would the Nerf Herder fall prey to the shadows next?

Uhura waited, and when no one spoke she finally addressed him; "Admiral Solo, the signal's dead. The beacon's been destroyed."

Han Solo shifted in his chair, laying his arms atop one leg and angled his head toward the officer. His short, cropped hair revealed the full, rugged features of a scoundrel that had seen far too much death, including the destruction of an entire planet. Han's gaze was blank as he stared at the woman, apparently inspecting her, sizing her up, did he intend to turn this into a physical altercation? The other officers didn't know, all had heard stories about him, so instead of speaking up with the woman they just squirmed quietly.

As an Admiral, Han presented himself more professionally than you might imagine for a pirate, which is what made the stories so incredible. Here was a man adorned in a pressed, long sleeved black jacket, buttoned with a folded collar. The left breast decorated with medals and rank, he was a veteran of one of the galaxy's most costly wars, and he wore his service proudly. Solo's black pants were tucked into one of the cleanest pairs of boots that, apparently, were spit-shined by the Admiral himself.

The only indication of this man's past as a pirate, or scoundrel, was that of his trusted holster strapped against his right thigh, cradling Han's highly modified DL-44 blaster pistol. Easily one of the most dangerous weapons in the man's arsenal. Second only when you put Admiral Solo behind a ship. He was one of the Republic's finest pilots and admirals, he had an uncanny knack for ships and command that translated well into his career.

Han's brown eyes finally darted around the room, then returned to the comm officer. "Do tell me where the beacon's remains are, then!" Han said, gesturing out toward the cold stillness of space. "'Cause maybe you see something I don't."

Uhura inhaled. "Admiral, this is against our mandate, now the Inquiry is not here. It's gone."

"Sir," officer Janeway interrupted. "Perhaps we should launch a probe?"

"I've got this," Han said, raising an open hand at the woman. The Admiral then leaned over his chair and whispered to a young man; "Fire a probe to Belsavis, see what comes back."

Admiral Solo leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth as the officers returned to work, both women sighing in annoyance. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Our people are out there. Nothing can hide forever."

Han did not know if he was saying that for the benefit of his crew or for himself, to shake out the itching feeling that he may have made a mistake. The Admiral contemplated his next course of action if the probes were to report back with no findings, he observed intently as the Nerf Herder shot several probes, each ejecting from the ship in a flash of white light.

The probes became barely a speck against the backdrop of the frozen planet before fading into obscurity as they descended upon Belsavis. If the storm didn't obliterate them, then maybe those worthless piles of junk might finally prove useful, Han thought. He despised droids.

For a moment the crew sat with baited breath, an odd sense of hopeful dread hung in the air; maybe the ship wouldn't be found, and those crewmen scolded themselves for entertaining such a thought. But then they wondered what it meant if the ship was discovered on Belsavis.

A red light on the comm station began blinking rapidly, one of the probes was reporting in, its encoded message layered with a live video. The deck awaited instructions from the Admiral.

"On everyones screen," Han ordered.

Janeway obliged, dispersing the report across the bridge, every screen displayed exactly what the probe had immediately started recording on the planet below; caught in a blizzard on Belsavis, faint but clearly visible; the Inquiry. A smoking pile of debris and ruin. The crew sank in their chairs and lumps formed in their throats. Their hearts raced and pumped as if it was going to burst from their chests. That ship had been obliterated, in combat.

A rifle fired and the crew nearly jumped out of their skin as the probe detonated during the recording; a security precaution, all probes were designed to self-destruct if they came under any fire, and this one did exactly as its programming instructed, but it still caught everyone off guard. This rescue mission had become something far more, but none knew exactly what yet.

"Damn it," Han cursed. "Pull us back."

As the Nerf Herder tipped its nose away from the planet while the crew frantically inserted navigation coordinates, a single blip on the radar echoed across the deck. Han squinted his eyes in annoyance, looking down at the bothan situated at the radar's controls.

"What now?"

"It's- it was behind the moon, sir," young officer Kirk revealed.

Han's face drooped into a sad, awkward expression. His lips frowned and his body tensed at every muscle. Hanging nonchalantly in orbit; a moon capable of hiding a small assault party, what a clever strategy, Han thought. The Nerf Herder was completely vulnerable, having put the moon behind them.

The Admiral wished Chewbacca was here.

"Find out what's tailing us!" Han barked.

"Scanners are picking up a single ship in the vicinity, sir," Kirk noted.

A lone ship caused all that mess?

"A super star destroyer, Admiral," Kirk added with dread.

The crew knew it; they would all die here.

"No," Han breathed out.

"Maybe they just want to ask us some questions," Uhura said dryly.

"Jump to lightspeed!"

"We're not ready, our coordinates-" navigator Janeway started.

"I don't care," Han shouted, hopping over his command post. "Get us the hell outta here!"

As the Nerf Herder made final preparations to jump, its rear was directly in the sights of the approaching dagger-shaped dreadnought. Its mere glint eventually over shadowing even Han's mighty ship.

"Put all power in our rear deflective shields," Han yelled, throwing one of the Herder's pilots out of their seat. Han was taking manual control.

A massive laser fired at the Nerf Herder, the initial shot bursting through its shields, heaving the ship. A second blast struck the Herder's stern and instantly annihilated four of its engines, crippling Han's ship. The force of the blast sent shockwaves cascading across the hull, there were more than a dozen breaches, and the entire engine crew had no doubt been killed instantly.

"Our hyperdrive engine is gone, Admiral."

"What good news," Han said between teeth. "I couldn't have guessed."

Taking control of the ship, Han strained the Herder and pulled it back, rearing it upward. The vessel howled and creaked as a volley turbo lasers from the Imperial dreadnought flickered across the black space and darted along the entire hull of Han's cruiser. The bridge was lit by a massive red strobe light in response to the heavy fire.

"Shields are gone!"

"Tell me something I don't know," Han snapped.

The crews faces contorted into sheer panic as their cruiser's bridge view quickly filled with the massive image of the enemy ship.

"Are you going to hit it?" Kirk wondered.

"Not exactly," Han answered.

A painful, frightening shrill plunged into the ship as the crew covered their ears and protected their faces from the bursting computers, Han was pushing the Herder too far. He rammed his cruiser along the port side of the dagger-shaped threat. Skidding right across its body, but missing the enemy bridge entirely. He didn't want to blow himself up, just buy some time, and this would shake up the Imperial crew, at least for a moment.

As Han prepared to bark a round of orders, he was flabbergasted when the dreadnought had the guile to rotate its port side upward, puncturing the Nerf Herder and sending it careening toward the moon. Hurling the innards of the Republic ship about like rag dolls.

"Evasive maneuvers," Han said, crawling back into his chair.

Sweat poured from Han's face as he took the Herder into a sharp turn, just barely missing the moon, but scrapping off the last of his viable engines. Straightening out the ship, Han dived directly toward Belsavis just as the destroyer opened another salvo of fire.

"Everyone to the escape pods," Han demanded. "Don't release until I give the order."

The crew just watched him.

"Now!"

The officers reluctantly obliged, Han was not sentimental, and now was not the time to bid a mourned farewell to their brilliant Admiral. Instead, they all rushed out, dashing through walls of flames that threatened to ensnare them.

Heat warnings from the core rang in the Admiral's ear; The ship was entering the atmosphere too hot, and Han was knowingly not allowing it to vent properly. Enemy fire was raining down on the Herder's rear as it started to shed its plating, shaking itself to pieces. Han's board flashed green as the crew confirmed their escape pods. This was his only shot to save them.

In one of the Admiral's finest efforts, Han arched the Herder up, pulling it out of the suicidal nose dive. A lurching cry filtered into the bridge as stress splintered the deck's support beams. The glass finally erupted and Han ducked beneath the pilot's station, shielding himself from the loose shards. Recognizing the breach, the Nerf Herder encased the bridge in a thick blast shield. Han carefully crawled out from beneath the computer, his hands layered with cuts from the glass.

He slumped his shoulders and sighed in a moment of repose, wiping his bloody palms clean on the butt of his pants. The warning beacons noted incoming turbo laser fire, his meters pleaded for venting. His baby was about to give. But the Nerf Herder's belly was facing the planet below now, and that's all that mattered. Admiral Solo rummaged through the debris, determined to reach the communication station. Throwing aside bursted remains, Han pressed a button and leaned toward the microphone.

"Ready," Han said over the static comm. "Now!"

Han observed the jettisoned escape pods and allowed a sigh of proud relief. As the turbo lasers pelted his hull, Han relayed a desperate holo to Coruscant. While his rescue attempt may have been in vain, Han had drawn out the enemy. Admiral Solo's recordings would be enough to stir the senate into action, they could finally get off their butts and acknowledge these disappearances.

The Nerf Herder fulminated above the skies of the snow blanketed world of Belsavis, debris raining down on its inhospitable landscape. The brilliant detonation hid the falling escape pods from any prying eyes. With luck the enemy wouldn't consider investigating the wreckage. Han had saved what lives he could. And, hopefully, pulled at the string that would unravel the sharks that waited in the depths.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Embedded into the thick wall of an over hanging slope was a lone escape pod that had plummeted severely off course after the dreadful explosion rocked the skies above the violent world of Belsavis. Cold air filtered through the thin, expanding cracks on the windshield. The sudden flush of brisk morning air awoke the single occupant, who bursted awake in sheer terror. Pale hands clawing at the confining space, he desperately craved freedom, but it did not find him.

"Carth," a familiar voice called. "Carth, hang on!"

The young man eagerly rubbed his fuzzy brown eyes, before his now cleared vision laid a windshield thats fog was slowly fading. Taking a calm breath, Carth swiftly stroked the sleeve of his arm to and fro on the window, until the condensation had dissipated entirely. Just outside, a single hand pressed firmly against the glass, was Jon, easily Carth's best friend aboard the Nerf Herder. He smiled, pleased to know Jon had survived.

"Oh, no," Jon gasped. His eyes fixated on Carth's lower half.

Confused, Carth followed the trail and stopped just at his legs, staring in awe at the grotesque picture; a shard of ice had punctured through the back of the pod, piercing Carth's left thigh. The young man's face twisted into a pale, nauseated expression of fear and disgust. A pool of blood had amassed beneath his boots, and yet he was so cold. Carth had felt nothing.

A massive scream echoed through the pod, traveling through the winds of the barren world. Carth fell into a panic, desperately pulling away from the wound, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Enough," Jon demanded. "Look at me. Carth. Look- At- Me."

Jon slammed his palm on the window, hard. Carth stopped, his chest heaving. He carefully shifted his gaze, slowly moving his glance away from the wound, up toward Jon's still eyes.

"Don't move. I'm going to get you out," Jon stated.

Jon leaned away from the pod, his other hand tightly grasping the rappelling cord that wrapped around his waist, and up into the hooks he had lodged along the slope's wall. When Jon released a slow, heavy breath, it was so cold Carth could see it. With his free hand, Jon tugged at the clasped pickaxe around his belt. After it finally snapped free, Jon prepared to swing the axe at the pod's sealed hatch.

"Cover your eyes," Jon said.

"But you said don't move," Carth argued.

Jon looked at the injured man dismissively.

"Just do it."

Carth obliged and braced himself, protecting his eyes. Jon swung the axe, striking it into a weakened corner of the pod's lock. Metal creaked and cried as Jon violently yanked at the pod's latch, his muscle tensing through his shirt. Jon tilted his head back and yelled into the sky as he forced the door open. It was a success! The latch shattered, but Jon lost his grip on the axe and sent it careening off into the snow.

The pod's door hissed open, barely opening its mouth wide enough to allow Jon easier access to Carth. So Jon helped it along, using his free hand to elevate the door further, until it could be opened no further, snow dribbling down the sides of the pod as Jon disturbed the resting blanket.

Jon leaned inside the pod, wrapping his arm around Carth's abdomen.

"Hold on to me," Jon ordered.

Carth simply nodded in confirmation, wrapping his arms around Jon's neck. His muscles tensed as Jon's breath tickled its way down Carth's back. It was awkwardly comforting. Carth blushed and shielded his face from Jon's view.

"This is going to hurt alot," Jon warned.

Before Carth could even completely grasp Jon's wisdom, the man had yanked Carth off and away from the ice that had broken itself through Carth's leg. He howled in agony as blood streamed down the open wound. Carth bit his lower lip until he suddenly drew blood, and stopped, scolding himself. It's not like he had the blood to waste.

With Carth's grasp as tight as ever, Jon rappelled down the rope. Fortunately it was only a short distance from the ground. The man's thick boots struck the ground and sank several inches into the snow. Jon sat Carth down on a pile of snow and dug into the backpack that had carefully been laid down before the human started his ascent up the slope.

"Thank you," Carth said.

"Don't thank me yet," Jon replied. "We ain't out of this yet."

Jon winked at Carth and returned to the large pack, rummaging through it for select goods.

"It's so cold," Carth said between shivers.

"It only gets colder after nightfall."

Jon silently congratulated himself and pulled out a large coat, furry around the collar, midnight black in color. Jon smiled warmly and handed it to the wounded man. Carth gently smiled and took the coat from Jon's grasp. He pulled the jacket around him and with Jon's help fastened the buttons.

Jon dug into his own jacket and removed two pairs of gloves.

"You'll need these too."

Carth caught the tossed pair and slid them on over his frozen, soaked hands. Carth's eyes trailed up the slope to the wrecked pod, and then looked back at Jon.

"How long was I up there?"

"A day and a half," Jon answered. "Took a while to find you."

"Jeez," Carth muttered.

"Yeah."

Jon strolled over to Carth after digging out the sled that had been buried beneath the snowfall. It looked as though Jon had used it to stock his equipment on as he made the trek to Carth's location. Now, though, it was going to be Carth's ride. Jon knelt over and picked Carth up. He carefully laid the wounded man on the sled, propping his legs up on top of the pack that he had settled on the sled.

Jon swung the sled's ropes over both his shoulders and began pulling it through the thick blanket of snow. Carth sat there uncomfortably, he felt absolutely useless as Jon tugged him along like a wounded animal that was to be a meal. Carth paused. after frightening himself; was he going to become a meal? Exactly at what point was cannibalism acceptable to survive? Carth shook his head, erasing the line of thought from his mind.

Carth laid his head back and watched the swirling clouds in the sky as the sun peaked, and then slowly began its descent. His roaring stomach returned Carth to the present and he lifted his head.

"I'm so hungry," Carth said.

"Almost there," Jon stated, nodding his head toward a camp site.

Carth looked ahead eagerly, a fire was burning, smoke rising into the sky, noting the site's position in the dwindling sunlight. Carth sighed, he was relieved. He might actually be able to find a moment's peace among all the bad that had befallen this crew.

When Carth and Jon arrived at the camp site, the two human men were greeted by other members of the bridge. Most notably; Kirk, the male bothan; Uhura, the young, dark skinned human; Janeway, the lady cathar. But that was all, apparently no one else had survived.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Kirk greeted.

The group had apparently set up camp far away from any escape pods, as none were in seeing distance. The surviving crew all huddled close to the fire as Jon pulled Carth toward the warm glow of the flames. Roasting above the fire were several slabs of bantha meat, cooking finely, Carth thought. The smell was mesmerizing, calling to Carth's aching belly.

Carth looked around at the crew, and then finally at Jon, who shook his head in silent confirmation; they were all that was left.

Another inspection of the group revealed that the bantha's meat had not been its only viable resource; its bones had been shaped into Carth's very sled, while its fur had been fashioned into blankets, or rather fur coats for the crew. While it looked positively absurd, its what would keep them all alive.

Kirk, being the chief medical officer aboard the Nerf Herder, stood and wobbled over toward Carth. The bothan diligently inspected Carth's gaping wound, tenderly turning his thigh over. Confident in his diagnosis, Kirk patted Carth on the shoulder and quietly joined Jon's opposite side at the fire.

"If I'm to treat that, we'll require medical supplies from the Herder," Kirk whispered.

Jon sighed. "Can he make that trip?"

Kirk shrugged. "We either try, or he'll die."

Jon's mouth sunk into a frown as he watched Carth happily accept a slab of the bantha meat, eagerly chomping away at the fat. The fire cracked and snapped as Janeway passed around the meat to each of the crew, preserving any remaining pieces in a lone bag. The crew would need to ration their meals if they hoped to survive. Taking down a lone bantha had no doubt been task enough. But it could have been days before they would set their sights on another herd.

The crew silently ate their meal around the camp fire as a full moon rose into the clear skies above Belsavis. Just as they were wrapping up dinner, a spine tingling howl stretched across the flat lands that surrounded them. Kirk nearly choked on his meat out of fear as the hairs along his spine stood up.

"Wampas," Uhura said, hopping to her feet like a predator.

"Wampas, here?" Carth said between mouthfuls.

Jon shrugged as he got to his feet and prepared to sling the sled's rope over his shoulders again. But Kirk stepped in, gesturing his hand.

"I'll do that," the bothan said. "You need some rest."

"What's going on?" Carth asked as Jon took a handful of snow and smothered the fire.

"We walk at night, sleep during the day," Janeway explained.

"But you haven't slept at all," Carth said to Jon.

Jon just shrugged. "Always on the move."

Throwing their personal packs over their shoulders, Janeway packed up the last of the food and slung an additional bag over her arm. Together, the crew trekked through the snow, following Jon's specific instructions. He would be leading them to the Nerf Herder.

"Won't whoever shot us down look there first?" Carth asked, peering over his shoulder at Jon. Kirk was pulling Carth so that the wounded man was facing away from the group, watching their rear.

"We have to take that risk," Jon answered. "We need supplies, food."

"Aren't there any bases here?" Carth wondered.

"This world is barren," Uhura said. "There are no settlements here. We're on our own."

Carth slumped his shoulders in defeat. They were all going to die.

The injured man twiddled his thumbs as he was pulled along, Uhura had taken a turn now. Carth absent mindedly played with the pieces of hair from the fur blanket that had been laid over him. He rose his head as his eyes saw lumps of snow moving toward them. Carth assumed it may have been blood loss, but he was assured that the cold would slow that down.

The lumps of snow grew massive, and were charging. Carth felt his heart leap into his throat as he choked out a warning.

"What is that?!" Carth cried, pulling at Uhura's arm.

The survivors stopped and looked back just as the furry lumps rose high into the air, eyes glistening in the darkness.

"Wampas!" Kirk shouted.

The survivors panicked, scrambling toward the shattered remains of the Nerf Herder.

"We're almost there!" Jon yelled.

Carth was crying as he threw chunks of rock and snow at the rampaging, starving beasts. They leapt at him with their massive claws, the scent of blood hanging in the air. Carth knew they were following them because of him. He grasped at the cloth covering his chest as one of the wampa's nails scrapped across the bones that made up the sled.

Janeway tripped in the snow, tears streaming down her face as Kirk rushed to her aide, pulling at her to get up. Begging for the young woman to hurry. During the fall Janeway's bag had caught onto a fallen piece of debris from the Nerf Herder. She violently shoved Kirk away, demanding that he save himself.

Reluctantly the survivors left Janeway behind. Blood curdling screams filled the night as the wampas devoured the helpless victim, their meal. Carth watched in terror as Janeway's extended arm fell into the snow. Her dead eyes intently set on the poor young man's soul.

"Inside," Jon demanded.

The crew had successfully reached the remains of the Nerf Herder, but not without their losses. After Uhura dragged the stricken Carth into the belly of the Herder, Jon collapsed the wall, protecting them from the burden of the wampas hunger.

Jon leaned forward, resting his hands against his knees as he heaved up vomit, his entire meal spilling forth on the almost familiar ruins. Carth shivered as he watched his friend and was forced to finally look away while Uhura comforted Jon. Kirk strolled away, his furry paw dragging along the inner wall. Kirk was never broken apart by death, perhaps that was the territory of being a combat medic.

Carth was barely holding himself together, and Uhura was more than capable at holding the team together, they all needed her now more than ever. Just as Carth was resuming his functions, he heard a heavy moan.

"Oh my stars," Kirk said.

Jon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and he and Uhura rushed to Kirk's side. Carth sighed and stretched out his neck the best he could, just barely catching sight as Jon lifted and removed the metal girders that had shaken itself apart during the crash.

"Han, he's alive!"


End file.
